Careless Whispers
by S.Walden
Summary: Yamato's life has spiraled out of control and he'll take anything he can get, unless a certain saver of souls has anything to say about it (after all, Jyou has to redeem himself for his past failures). Jyoumato/YamatoxKaizer!Ken, previous JyouxKen/Kaizer!Ken mentioned


Careless Whispers

A/N: Another self destructive Yamato fic. At least he's not super sad this time. Sort of another head-canon AU. I delayed posting this mostly because I wanted to see if it went somewhere, and it did, so here you go. Two OC's from the headcanon make small appearances, FYI.

A/N 2: Sorry for the long absence over the holidays, too. Expect regular updates now through Easter. Thanks for reading my work! Please review!

Warnings/Pairings: Sexual content, mentions of drugs. / One-sided Jyoumato, YamatoxWhoeverhefeels like, YamatoxKaizer!Ken, and previous Ken/Kaizer!KenxJyou.

* * *

><p>[1]<p>

_Dancing_

Yamato laid back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Another near-lifeless body next to him certainly doesn't make him feel any better once the euphoria passes. All the emotions he shed a few hours ago to play out his egotistical fantasy come rushing back just as quickly. He feels proud of himself as he kicks back, taking in the scent and sensation of everything a second longer before he left it behind for a new, but similar act again in the future. He grumbles and shifts in the sheets, glancing at a body not only he admires, but this lady next to him had, too.

_She probably won't by morning_, the young lover thought, turning to the woman next to him. He raises a hand to her soft cheek and drags it down as she sleeps and finds himself cracking a smile as he recalls the last few fleeting minutes. Her strawberry colored hair falls to his wrist and he shakes it away. Then, his mind wakes.

Eventually, he can't find comfort in it anymore. He gathers his keys, wallet, cigarettes from the nightstand. He wasn't sure where his white dress shirt went but he hadn't needed it for months anyway, why bother? _Let her keep it as a souvenier... heh,_ he thought, managing to at least find his jacket- no way in Hell was he leaving that there. He snatched it from somewhere on the floor.

He stepped out, knowing by morning that rumours would follow him and he would feel bad for a few days and then the person (male, female, he didn't care) would move on and he could go back to feeding his narcissism. Still, anyone who decided to date him knew it wouldn't last longer than a night, and that was if he was in the mood. They knew every detail of his act and truly, that's what it was. Just something he had made work and it was growing stale lately.

_I would love something deeper, but I really do enjoy this way too much_, he told himself as he watched, waited for the next person to come begging for him. He was at school early, but just to hang around before and after homeroom. Then, maybe he would hop over to the college and find better luck... people didn't know him there and were just as eager.

He suddenly heard his phone vibrating in his back right pocket and pulled it out. _It's her. From last night. How did she get my number, anyway?_ Yamato sighed and sent the call to voicemail. _Maybe I should go to class, for a change of pace. _But he decided against it and instead went outside to his car, a black Chevrolet with no A/C and squeaky brakes. But he had maintained the baby himself and refused to give up his first car even when it hadn't been fixable, save a huge amount of money, which he effortlessly used from the savings he had from his middle school band. He was a Junior, technically, and they had broken up only a semester ago. The newfound spare time was nice. He hoped he could focus on what he really wanted to: love. Oh, but it went downhill from there.

He got in his car and rummaged around the passenger seat for cigarettes. With only an empty package to spare, he sat back in the driver's seat and glanced around the parking lot. _It's only been six months, how did my life go so wrong so fast? _

* * *

><p>"So, now that you have a girlfriend, you're just... dropping off the face of the earth?" Yutaka remarked, hands on his hips.<p>

Yamato sighed, "It's what I really want, okay?"

"I thought music was your life," barked Akira.

"...well, it was a good way to kill time, guys, but I have a real future to think about. Some stupid middle school band isn't going to get me anywhere."

"And some broad will?"

"We've been together for a year... We're meant to be together, forever," Yamato told them. He knew, though, that they knew he was just completely blinded by what he thought love was. He had never had a serious relationship until then and he was... God, he was sixteen and long overdue compared to his peers. What they didn't know was his virginity and flat-out ignorance of the adult side of love. No one knew. To everyone else he was just this sex symbol.

He enjoyed that, though.

He never denied himself the confidence in bed he denied himself on the outside.

But his first time wasn't wonderful. He had completely lost it to a ghost that haunted him, one he had buried a long time ago, and attacked the girl. After an entire year, they finally pushed it and in a single night on Christmas Eve his life was dead and buried. When she returned to school with scratches and a black eye and Yamato's memory being a bit hazy on the subject... he began to retreat to easier things. Bodies. Pleasure.

Love wasn't real and he didn't need it to be anymore. He just wanted the attention and the good feeling back. Not the memories he had unearthed that night.

* * *

><p>So, parked now outside the college, he watched the students come and go to a future he was slowly losing. He didn't care though, everything came so easily to them. Rich parents. Everything fucking handed to them. Why did he have to be gifted at things like music, painting, and writing? He was destined to be a poor beggar and die alone.<p>

He just couldn't admit now that it was because a crushed heart had made him give up.

Then, he saw a tall, broad shouldered man walking towards his car. Yamato was a bit confused to say the least- all he was doing was smoking the last half cigarette he had found buried under CDs in the glove box... _Oh, shit. This guy is probably a teacher or something. _Yamato tossed the smoking butt aside into the floor somewhere as the man finally reached his car. He gave a gentle knock on the frame.

"Do you know where you are?"

"...excuse me?" Yamato blinked, studying this guy's long, blue hair. He had a defined nose and a pearly white smile. He smelled like fresh linen.

"You're in the guest only parking and you've been parked out here for nearly two class periods. You can get towed even if you're in the car, you know."

"...what business is that of yours, _sir_?" Yamato asked, forcing the last word as if it were poison. _Good job, that sounded really polite._

"None, really, but I was on my way to my car and thought I would mention it to you. Ja," the man said, giving a wave and heading towards a tiny, white Bug.

Yamato ignored him and waited (to which no one came to tow his car) but he did eventually find a young man interested in him. For a brief moment that evening after a boring movie that they only attended out of societal courtesy, the blonde would find comfort. He wondered if he should just outright become a prostitute at this point... get paid for destroying himself how he was... but no, that wouldn't feed his pride and he _needed_ that to fuel his raging ego. He had just enough money to get by anyway and nothing else mattered except that he mulled through the motions as his broken heart fixed itself.

They didn't even bother getting back to whoever's place before they were all over each other. Yamato was grateful to taste the sweat of flesh again and to hear those anxious breaths in his ear. _You really want me that badly? Let me hear you... _he thought, sending a tongue into the man's mouth with a smile. A groan replied to him and Yamato snaked his right hand under the other's shirt, finding the nipple underneath and giving it a tug. The blonde gave a smile that made the other shiver.

He never bothered with names. Yamato had a good memory of people and relating faces to names and events to things just complicated matters. They would all turn into buried memories that would stay hidden, where they belonged... not like the things he had unearthed with Sora. He just wanted a quick slice of heaven and for this entire mess to be over with. He wanted to feel like his mother had made him feel, but without the shame and guilt and hatred. So as the other man pulled him closer, Yamato buried his nose into the straight purple hair and nuzzled up to the boy's ear.

"You're quiet aren't you?" the other asked, diving into Yamato's neck and biting down. The blonde cried out in pain. Pain suddenly warmed by the hot comfort of the other's tongue against his skin. "Maybe... not all the time."

Yamato growled in response. He was in for a good night. "Don't mess with me," the blonde hissed, grabbing the boy's wrists and shoving him back against the hallway wall. He peered into purple-blue eyes and studied for the fear and anxiety he stimulated so well. As the boy struggled playfully under his grip, the blonde realized that this wasn't going to cut it much longer.

Nothing was going to make that pain in his chest go away forever, but he was going to be damned if he gave into it and pushed his body against the other's, who took Yamato's jacket in his and peeled apart the leather from the buttons to find the bare skin underneath.

When it was done, Yamato found himself staring at another face, another life he had infected with his dark. His eyes met the other's and finally his lover spoke, "I won't see you again... that's the way it goes, right?"

Yamato nodded, brushing back the boy's long bangs.

The boy seemed to empathize with a weak smile, "You need something more, though?"

Yamato didn't move, but his breathing stopped.

"There's this med student... he can give you what you're looking for."

"Why are you helping some high schooler?" Yamato breathed.

"...it's what I do," the boy replied, then took a paper and wrote down something. He let it flutter lifelessly onto the sheets near the stains of their ecstasy and gave a beautiful, melting smile before finding his clothes and leaving. For the first time in months, someone stood and walked out on Yamato Ishida. The blonde held back the tinge of anger and grabbed the sheet of paper with a single name on it: Shinjiro.


End file.
